Dear Mom, Almost two weeks ago, my grandmother called me over to the house to ?help you out?. I assumed it was just to prepare another bag for your feeding tube, or maybe to get you something that she wasn?t able to find, or even to fix you some food so she wouldn?t be put out, seeing how she has a bit more trouble getting up and down nowadays. I never thought, not even in my wildest dreams (or nightmares), that things would turn out the way they did. I found you sitting on your bed, looking disoriented, almost as if you?d just woken up. Grandma informed me that you needed to go to the hospital yet again?it feels like you?ve been there more than you have at home these past several months. You weren?t dressed, so I asked you if you wanted me to get you some clothes. You just nodded. As soon as I came back, you slumped back down in bed and started breathing really heavily. At first I thought you?d merely passed out, that you were asleep?but it didn?t take long to figure out that something was very, very wrong. Your breathing slowed down – at one point I counted a full twenty seconds between breaths. Grandma was already on the phone with 911 while I kept checking your pulse. I almost didn?t find it, but I eventually managed – it was just that faint. Soon your breathing stopped altogether, and I tried my hardest to get you on the floor so I could do chest compressions and try to bring you back?but I wasn?t strong enough to lift you. Thankfully, the EMT's shows up just a minute or two later, and they managed to move you onto a gurney so they could get you into an ambulance straightaway. The EMT's said they got your pulse back, but you still weren?t breathing too well, so they put you on a breathing machine as soon as you were at the hospital. The first time I went in to see you was enough to make me break down?the thought that you were incapable of breathing on your own, that you had to have help with such a simple everyday thing?it ruined me. I sat by your bed for a while, holding your cold pale hand, and kept telling you that you needed to wake up, that people missed you, that we loved you. I don?t know if you heard me or not, but you did start to get better for a couple days. The doctors said that you were responding to different stimuli, like your finger twitching when it was pricked, or your eyes moving when you had water dripped into your ears. things seemed hopeful, and for a brief moment it felt like you HAD heard me and were fighting to come back. But, I suppose, in the end, you lost that fight. The doctors told us that you were officially brain-dead, that you were gone, but they did one last EEG to make sure of it. We know what you told us: that if you were ever in a situation like that, you wanted to be let go. You didn?t want to live like that. So?that?s what we did. We let you go. I know we?ve had our fights and differences over the years, and I know you couldn?t be everything that we maybe needed you to be as a mother, since you?ve always been sick with one ailment or another?but, despite all that, I know that you did your best with what you had?and I really appreciate that. We all do and even though you were always sick, you always seemed optimistic, always doing research to try and find ways to either cure or cope with what you had. You always had a great social life, always going out to spend time with friends, and they loved you just as much as we did. You fought hard against every bad situation life threw at you, and you managed to beat them, or at least learn to live with them and be mostly content. You were always smiling and laughing and enjoying life, even though it wasn?t too good to you. I?m so proud of how far you came?but now, i?m glad that you can finally rest and not have to suffer anymore, even if it means you can?t be here with us. I love you, Mom?and I hope that we can see each other again someday.
